Maranatha, Emmanuel

History

My favorite Christmas hymn has always been "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." I love the low, yearning tones that seem to hang in the air, expressing the groan of creation for a redeemer.

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

When I sat down to write this blog, I decided to do a little background research on this hymn, and what I found made me love it all the more.

"O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" was originally written in Latin for worship in Benedictine monasteries in the 8th or 9th century (here are two great sources I found). It was one of a series of "antiphons" that would be sung in the days leading up to Christmas. (If the word "antiphon" looks familiar, yep- it's the refrain following a call and response!) This series of songs, called the "O Antiphons," each highlighted a different name of Jesus.

• O Sapentia (Wisdom)

• O Adonai (God)

• O Radix Jesse (Stem or root of Jesse)

• O Clavis David (Key of David)

• O Oriens (Dayspring)

• O Rex genitium (King of the Gentiles)

• O Emmanuel (God with us)

The first letter of each word, when read backwards, spells the Latin "Ero cras," which means "I will be present tomorrow." O Emmanuel would traditionally be sung on the day before Christmas Eve. (The eighth antiphon, sung on Christmas Eve, would be "O Virgo Virginum", meaning O Virgin of Virgins.) The modern form as we now know it was translated and published in 1851.

I love studying the history of monasteries, because they're a deep part of our family history. Especially as someone building 24/7 prayer, I have so much honor and gratitude for the monastic tradition and their legacy of constant prayer and worship. It's beautiful to know that 1200 years ago my brothers and sisters were singing this same hymn in longing for the presence of God.

Emmanuel

After all, that's what "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" is about. Longing. Yearning. Aching for the coming of the One who will make everything right.

From the moment Eden fell—our first cosmic tragedy, when darkness swallowed the light and the glory of God seemed to be forever lost—God promised that Eve's future Seed would crush the head of the serpent (Ge. 3:15). In that moment, a glimmer of hope first shone.

Down through the generations, the people of God waited for the Seed. The promises narrowed, as God singled out Abraham, then Isaac, then Jacob, then Judah, then David. The prophets elaborated on what this Seed would do—He would inherit the throne of David and bring salvation to Israel, and by extension to the whole earth, until the glory of God would cover the earth again. They called Him the Son of David, the Anointed One (Messiah).

And Isaiah called Him Emmanuel (Is. 7:14). God with us.

When I hear this song, I hear that ancient longing for a redeemer to fulfill God's promises to His people. As the first verse says, Israel is captive and mourning in exile. Even living in her own land under Roman occupation, Israel was a long way from thriving in the fullness of her promises. Truthfully, the exile hasn't ended even today, because God can't fully give Israel her land to dwell in safely forever until she's fully righteous (see my post on Israel's promises).

And really, the exile is even deeper than that, because all of humanity has been exiled from Eden since Genesis 3.

The birth of Emmanuel changed everything—or more accurately, was the start of changing everything. YES, God was with us for 33 years, walking around on the ground in a body of flesh. YES, Jesus's death made a way for our spiritual exile to end, so that we could be justified before God and boldly enter into His presence. YES, His Spirit is with us now.

But we're not home yet.

And He's not home yet.

Maranatha

Our home, and Jesus' home, is heaven on earth forever, when the New Jerusalem descends and the kingdom of God becomes a physical reality. Jesus will rule on earth as the promised Son of David, and He will restore all things back to the purity and limitless life that was present in Eden.Until then, we groan, together with all creation (Ro. 8:22-23).

The ancient Greek word to express this longing is "Maranatha." It means, "Come, O Lord!" When I sing "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel," I'm not only singing it in memory of those who longed for His first coming, but for myself and my generation now, longing for His second coming. The first coming was really to make way for the second. Jesus' work is incomplete until He returns.

This "Maranatha" is the cry of the Bride at the end of Revelation:

"The Spirit and the Bride say, 'Come.' ...Come, Lord Jesus!" (Revelation 22:17, 20)

In that day, the full meaning of Emmanuel will become reality, when God Himself is on the earth forever.

"And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.'" (Revelation 21:2-3)

Right now, we live in the waiting, hanging in the gap between the "already" and the "not yet." That's my favorite part of "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel": the tension between the verses and the chorus, as we linger in the longing before "Rejoice!" breaks out. (Jaye Thomas has a beautiful acapella version that sings several verses before he finally gets to the chorus.)

This Christmas season, as we feel into the ancient anticipation for the birth of Emmanuel, let's also join with the ancient cry of Maranatha, that God would be with us forever on the earth when Jesus comes. This is the dearest longing of His heart, and thus it becomes ours too.Maranatha. Come, Emmanuel.